


Madonna of the Desert

by fleete



Series: Mating Games 2013 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/pseuds/fleete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris meets Vicky at a hunter's convention in the Wyoming desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madonna of the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> **content notes** : mild painplay, threat of violence during sex, one misogynist slur
> 
> Chris and Victoria are 19/18, respectively.
> 
> Written for the prompt "first times, where the first time is not the actual sex," although I missed posting it to Mating Games.

The Wyoming desert is dusty and lonely and stupid. Chris hates these “conventions.” He hates pretending to make friends with the other hunters’ kids, hates deferring to hunters twice his age who can’t shoot worth a damn, hates having to look after Kate while Gerard and his cronies go out on hunts. Mostly he hates being around people who treat Gerard like he’s God’s fucking gift.

This year is different, though. There’s a new family, and they’ve brought their daughter along. She’s got Windex-blue eyes and a jaw like the sharp end of a shovel. Her hair twists up, taking wings with hairspray, the tips of it pink or purple, depending on the light. She wears these tiny little shorts with huge, slouchy sweaters, which are forgettable because you can’t your eyes off her lurid pink lips. You’d think it would all add up to too much, but it doesn’t.

During an exhibition, she uses a hatchet to dismember a dead pig in half a minute. Chris solemnly decides he’s in love.

Usually he’d just go up and talk to a girl. He likes to think of himself as suave. Confident. It’s harder to be intimidated by teenage girls after you’ve gone head to head with a rabid omega werewolf, after all. But for some reason, he finds himself hesitating as this girl wipes her blade on her shorts and high-fives her friend.

He finds out her name when her mother yells “Vicky” across the yard in a booming voice, and she detaches herself from the other girls to run over. Gerard is standing beside him and catches the direction of Chris’s eyes. He rolls his own eyes skyward and mutters something about fucking teenage sluts, and that pretty much cements for Chris that Vicky is the height of perfection.

In the end, Chris doesn’t have to go up to her. Maybe she sees him looking at her, maybe she’s looking at him, Chris doesn’t know, but she marches over as he’s exiting the mess one night, grabs him by the collar and drags him behind the building where she goes down on her knees in the scraggy weeds and makes him see stars.

The night after that, he fingers her while she gives pointed instructions, and the night after that, they dry hump against a tree while she sucks on his fingers. It—don’t get him wrong—it’s the absolutely best thing that’s ever happened to him. But the night after that, when she’s wrenching herself up and down his dick like an athlete, he finds himself searching for words.

He wants to know what kind of music she listens to. He wants to know if she’ll show him how to do that trick with the hatchet, and whether she likes Star Wars, and whether she's ever thought of not being a hunter.

“Um, Vicky?”

She reaches back with one hand and gathers up his balls in a deceptively gentle grip.

“You ever call me Vicky again and I will rip these off. We clear?”

“I thought that was your name.”

She shakes her head slow and flexes her fist around his balls. “My name is Victoria.” She pronounces it like what it means. Checkmate. Conquest. So long, sucker, you’re done for.

Chris whispers it back to her, and she doesn’t grin so much as bare her teeth. “Say it again,” she says, at the same time as she pulls his balls upward. It feels like she’s got a handle at the base of his dick and she’s fucking herself with it. She pulls up with her hand and fucks down with her hips.

“Victoria.”

“Yeah,” she says. She throws her head back and rides him, and the column of her throat gleams like a rifle.

“Victoria.”

She goes off with a gasp and a curse, her cunt squeezing like a fist and her fingers going slack around his balls, and Chris is so irrevocably _done for_.


End file.
